The Awakening
1164 Words
“She’s burning up,” one of the maids whispered in a low, panicked voice, just loud enough for Everett to catch. “He should’ve at least licked the wound—it would’ve healed by now.”
The pain in her neck pulsed like fire, dull but constant. It had only been a few hours, but the wound left by King Amarok’s bite throbbed mercilessly. Everett had kept her eyes shut, hoping to block out the world, and perhaps the maids thought she was asleep. That was fine with her. She didn’t have the strength to talk, and more than anything, she didn’t want to deal with pitying glances or empty reassurances.
Still, her thoughts were loud in the silence. She was alive.
He hadn’t killed her.
That fact alone brought a strange sense of relief. He didn’t seem to care about her—not enough to say a word before walking out after marking her—but maybe that was a blessing in disguise. She had lived to see another day, and in her world, that was worth something.
They had given her some sort of herbal medication—meant to dull the pain—but it barely made a difference. She winced, her body twitching involuntarily from the burning sensation in her neck.
“She’s awake,” another maid whispered, rushing to her side.
Everett heard hurried footsteps and felt the gentle press of a cool hand against her fevered forehead.
“She’s burning up. He shouldn’t have left her like that. I think…” The voice dropped a little. “I think her body craves him.”
What?
Her mind spun.
Was that what they thought? That she craved the monster who had bitten her without care, who’d treated their wedding like a chore? She wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it, but even that hurt. Her body was too weak, too heavy, and all she could do was lay there, lips dry, vision blurry.
A cold object pressed against her lips.
“Drink, my lady,” a soft voice said.
The liquid that touched her tongue was thick and bitter, like melted butter mixed with herbs. Her instinct was to spit it out, and she coughed, spluttering some of the mixture.
Bad idea.
The sudden movement sent a jolt of searing pain through her neck. She gasped, the burning worsening, and before she could register anything else, darkness crept back in, taking her under again.
---
It was a strange dream—or so she thought.
A wet, warm sensation grazed her neck. It felt… real. Too real.
A tongue?
She shifted slightly, trying to tell her mind it was a dream, but her body knew better. It wasn’t a dream. Her skin tingled where it was being licked, like a wound being carefully soothed.
Her eyelids fluttered open—and her breath caught in her throat.
Golden eyes stared back at her. Wide, glowing, and all too familiar.
Not Amarok… at least not in human form.
A massive black wolf loomed over her, its nose sniffing gently near her neck, fur brushing her skin. Its presence was immense, shadowy, yet oddly calm. Her heart pounded violently in her chest.
Was this how she would die?
Devoured by a beast?
Her instincts screamed at her to run, but her body remained frozen. She tried to reason with herself—maybe if she stayed perfectly still, it wouldn’t hurt her.
But then it licked her again.
The same spot where Amarok had bitten her.
Over and over, its rough tongue moved carefully along her neck, spreading warmth where there had been only pain before. She trembled, uncertain whether to scream or weep.
Eventually, her eyes fluttered shut once more. The fear was still there, but the medicine in her system dulled everything else, and exhaustion overtook her.
She drifted off again, the soft warmth of the wolf’s tongue the last thing she remembered.
---
Earlier, just after the ceremony…
Amarok had left the ceremonial hall with heavy steps, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. Once in the privacy of his chamber, he stumbled forward, clutching his chest.
His breathing came in short, ragged bursts.
If he hadn’t restrained himself—if he hadn’t held back—he might’ve done something far worse than just bite her.
He could’ve ripped her apart.
Even now, his hands shook with the effort it had taken to stop. Marking her was supposed to be symbolic, ceremonial. But when his fangs touched her skin, something inside him snapped. The scent of her blood—pure Bcaas blood—had driven him mad with desire, rage, hunger… and something else.
The curse.
It still clawed at him from within.
It was said the curse would only be broken when a royal of Bcaas fell completely, truly in love with him. A cruel twist of fate, considering he had long given up on love.
There had been hope once.
With Emily.
She had been the only one to come close—sweet, warm-hearted Emily. Another Bacaas princess, like Everett. She had made him believe he could be healed. She had acted like she loved him… until she betrayed him.
He had trusted her, cherished her.
And she had stabbed him—both figuratively and literally.
He’d ended her life with his own hands. Her final breath, her wide, stunned eyes, haunted him in ways no battlefield ever could.
Since then, he'd closed his heart to every woman sent his way. He'd accepted each one as part of the tradition, and watched them die as they failed to survive their union with him. Not one of them had stirred anything in him.
Until her.
Until Everett.
She hadn’t run. Hadn’t begged for mercy. Even when terrified, she had done what was asked of her. That defiant glint in her eyes reminded him painfully of Emily.
And that was dangerous.
He could not afford to trust again.
Amarok stared at his fingers, where a smear of blood still glistened. Her blood. Sweet, rich, and unlike anything he had tasted before.
His jaw clenched.
He had wanted more. Wanted to tear her open and drink her in—but he had stopped himself.
For now.
She hadn’t betrayed him… yet. So she didn’t deserve death.
But hours later came the heat.
The bond was taking effect.
His skin burned, his heart raced. He could feel pain, and how his body reacted, with the sweats forming on his head but this was nothing but if he felt like this, what about her?
What was she going through, in that room with the pain of his mark?
“Damn it,” he growled, the curse in his blood boiling like fire.
A sudden bang echoed through the hallway outside his chamber.
His eyes snapped to the door.
Someone was approaching his chambers.
The bond has taken effect; he cursed under his breath as he arose, his wife needed him.
- Writer
